Strategic Retreat
by NewEnglandFan
Summary: John and Elizabeth go on leave, along with several other Atlantis citizens. Things go very badly. A DARK story. OCs also part of this. Violence, injuries, and some suggestive sexual encounters (not graphic). Reviews appreciated!


The sun was coming up, light glinting off of the blood-speckled damp grass. He sank down on his knees. He didn't feel the cold mud soaking through the fabric. All he felt was what shouldn't have been there, threading its way through his chest from a black, black place.

A fit of shaking came out of nowhere, vibrating silently through his ribcage, up his back, rumbling over his shoulders, through his skull, and manifesting itself out of his mouth in a sob. He couldn't stop the wheezing, guttural cries. He was falling forward; a hand and then an elbow joined his knees in the frigid muck and kept him from collapsing all together.

His view of the field was oddly sideways. He forced his eyes to focus on an object in the foreground. "There's my gun, yeah, there's my gun," he thought. "Just go get it, John, OK? That's _all_ ya gotta do, pick it up, and run."

John didn't move, though.

"C'mon, Sheppard, just do it! Move your ass!" But John didn't want to, couldn't. He was so stuck, in more ways than one. The paralyzing shock wouldn't let him go.

An energy beam blasted nearby. Water hissed and turned to steam, burning his face. But Sheppard didn't move. He just stared dully at his gun, watching it settle into the mud, glug-glug-glug, only inches away from his fingers.

"Colonel! Are you hurt? Colonel? Ronon, help me with him, he's just dead weight." Strong hands and arms, encased in blue camouflage uniforms and belonging to a couple of soldiers that Sheppard vaguely remembered were also on this royally fucked-up visit, began carrying him away.

Boom! Sheppard felt the pain as some particularly nasty pieces of slivered rock impaled his thigh, his arm, his neck, his scalp. "Yeah," he thought, "that happens, doesn't it, when things blow up? You get hit by stuff." He made it easy for the blood to drain from his body since, right then, he didn't really care if he ever got off that planet.

"What's he holding onto? Oh, shit, shit, oh, god…somebody, do something about…oh, shit."

("Ears shutting down now, John," said his subconscious. "I've got you.")

* * *

><p>"Colonel? Colonel?"<p>

Let's try that again.

"John?" Carson Beckett rarely found himself calling the Colonel by his first name; he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was too personal, too familiar, crossing that gentle barrier that Carson thought should exist between patient and physician.

Maybe the Colonel hadn't needed that kind of separation before. But now Sheppard had erected a massive wall between himself and the people who cared about him. Carson sure as hell had to find a way over it and help him before his friend drifted irretrievably away.

"Hey, Doc, didn't realize you were there. Kinda in a fog right now, must be the meds," said John brightly, his voice soft, as he turned his head towards the sound of Beckett's voice. And then, just as quickly, his affect changed again, his face almost as blank as the proverbial slate. His lips might be forming a smile, but his eyes were dead as stone.

From the foot of his bed, Elizabeth gazed at Sheppard, then Beckett, then down at her hands. She could find no warmth in that room, nothing to soothe her heartache, to restore what had been lost.

If you talked to John, addressed him directly, he reacted. But if you wanted to connect with the man they knew from before…

Beckett expected him to be subdued after major surgery and frightening blood loss, to be reeling after such tragic events.

But he had never, ever seen a patient whose delivery into his care had been preceded by prying a dismembered arm from one of his hands, and a matted mess of hair and flesh from his pocket.

Sheppard had been nearly catatonic once the anesthesia had worn off. He wasn't much better, three days later.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"…Yes, Colonel Caldwell, that's the latest report I got from the Bellarin. Not too many leads on the sneak attack. The spies we captured haven't been too cooperative. The raiders themselves were either killed by our forces, or they committed suicide rather than be taken alive. But, we _have_ learned that…"

Ronon shook his head at the voices coming from the video meeting in Weir's office. He didn't want to hear SGC reports. He wanted to hear Sheppard speak. Laugh. Insult someone. He wanted to go in and punch his friend in the nose and shock him back to reality. But after what happened before they'd rescued him from that field, was that even possible?

_**Before...**_

"How do they keep it up?"

"Tape, lots of tape."

"That's gotta hurt."

"Probably."

"How long could that last, she looks very, hmmm…"

"I dated a model once," said Sheppard. "That's how they keep the clothes from, uh, shifting; it's a special tape that sticks to cloth and skin. And they use clips, and string, too. That's how everything would stay, uh, _really perfect_, no matter how much the actresses would move around."

"Gee, 'Kirk' once dated a model, how unusual," cracked McKay.

"Yup," said John, with a self-satisfied smirk.

"Hmmpphhh," grunted Ronon, stifling a chuckle.

"Very impractical," said Teyla, glaring at all three men, "as are their unusual hairstyles. An enemy would have no difficulty defeating them in hand-to-hand combat."

John and McKay exchanged a look, trying not to laugh. _Klingons_ were meant for combat, not those beautiful women from 1966.

Sheppard, McKay, Ronon and Teyla were in the 'den' they'd fashioned out of some empty quarters expressly for 'TV/Movie' nights. They were deep into a Star Trek (original version) DVD binge. Tired of the blank looks from Ronon and Teyla about those 40 year old cultural references, and equally tired of McKay arguing with him over obscure Trekkie trivia, Sheppard had finagled all three seasons of Kirk and company's adventures.

Sheppard knew he was also setting himself up for McKay calling him 'Kirk' more than ever, but, hey, there were worse nicknames, right?

"Anybody want another beer? I think the pizza's gone, though," said John.

"As much as I'd love another weak American beer, no thanks, Sheppard," said McKay. "Tomorrow is 'shore leave' on Bellarin and I intend to enjoy myself."

"Really? Well, let's hope it's not like a Star Trek 'shore leave.' Something usually went wrong," joked John.

"Well, I have no intention of becoming a 'red shirt,' Sheppard."

"What?" asked Ronon. He'd never understand those Earth sayings.

John laughed. "Just do me a favor and try and have some fun, Rodney. You'll be a lot easier to live with for the next couple of months if you do."

"Well, the Bellarin do have a rather interesting Science Center that, even though it's in _this_ galaxy, seems to have a good reputation. I thought I'd…"

"McKay, for the next two days, I don't want to hear the words 'science' and 'fun' in the same sentence. If I do, I will personally make you a 'red shirt.' Now, help us clear up this mess so I can get to bed."

* * *

><p>Elizabeth looked up as the door to John's quarters slid open.<p>

"Well, did you have a good time?" Elizabeth hadn't joined in for TV night. Not that she didn't like Star Trek; she just understood that John needed 'team' time. Each part of his life complemented the other.

"Yeah, 'cept I don't think Teyla could ignore all that 1960's sexism and just enjoy the phaser fights and rocks made out of Styrofoam, and all those actors in alien monster outfits with their zippers showing."

"But _you_ can ignore that sexism?"

"Oh, definitely," said John, crawling into bed. "_**I **_wouldn't want you to wear scanty little outfits and let me have my way with you whenever I wanted…" he said with a devilish glint in his eye. He leaned in for a kiss, only to be swatted away.

"Ooh, beer and pepperoni, brush your teeth before you give in to your male chauvinism!"

John laughed and headed for the bathroom.

A little while later, he joined her in bed, comfortable in gray sweatpants but no T-shirt. They lay side by side, facing each other.

"So, you're looking forward to tomorrow?" asked Elizabeth.

"Sure, aren't you?"

"Oh, you know me, I have a hard time getting my brain out of work mode."

"I can fix that," said John. He drew Elizabeth in for a strong, deep kiss, carding her hair with his fingers. His touch then drifted lightly down her neck, to the delicate arch of her collarbone, until his hand eased under her soft cotton camisole. Elizabeth shivered with pleasure as his fingers moved gently over her breast, the nipple hardening as his skin lay enticingly warm against her own. She pulled John close and kissed him, then plunged her tongue deep into his sensuous mouth. As he started to pant she broke away and pushed him back with a wicked stare. She took her shirt off, eyes never leaving his. Then she wrapped herself around him, grabbed his ass, and held on tight…

**_The next day, on the planet Bellarin…_**

"John, this place is beautiful," said Elizabeth. They'd reached the large resort complex after a short walk from the Gate.

"Yeah, if you're into flowers and fountains and stuff…" He made a face. Maybe they had a putting green somewhere.

"C'mon, I know you'll like it. Remember your mission to that tropical planet, M46-something? You couldn't stop talking about it."

Because the nice scenery had included more than plants, thought John. But that was squarely in the past. Yup. The past.

"Okay, okay, I'll, uh, take an allergy pill or something."

"And we'll both try to keep work off our minds."

"That may take some doing, Elizabeth."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. But we can try, right?"

John leaned in and brushed his lips against that perfect spot on her neck, where he knew his touch drove her mad. He smiled as the flush of desire colored her cheeks. "Oh, yeah," he murmured. "Oh, yeah."

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sheppard and his colleagues were met by Director Glenara, a representative of the Bellarin government tasked with overseeing the Lanteans' visit. She was a tall, attractive 40-something with blue eyes and short-cropped, jet black hair. After the usual pleasantries, she looked at Sheppard, her gaze conveying both amusement and concern.

"Guns are not necessary here, Colonel," she said with a smile.

"Uh, yes, but-" started Sheppard.

"I know you asked for and were granted permission to bring weaponry with you. Our security system automatically inventoried those items once you passed through our Ring. As you know, we confiscated the explosive devices that you call 'grenades,' but did not detect anything else that was objectionable according to our rules."

"This community is meant for diversion and relaxation, Colonel Sheppard, for educational pursuits and thoughtful discourse," she continued. "The troubles of the galaxy should be far from your mind. And you do know that relations between our people and yours have been strong for nearly 7 months now."

"Sorry, Director, it's just force of habit, force of habit. You never know what you're gonna run into."

"True. And I do understand your desire to remain vigilant. But please, let me reassure you that you may accept our hospitality without fear. My assistants will escort you to your lodgings and acquaint you with our amenities."

_That afternoon…_

While the other Atlantis visitors engaged in various activities, McKay was in the Science Center with Dr. Tamik. Director Glenara had suggested that the two scientists meet, as both were physicists.

But of course, McKay immediately started off on the wrong foot. As he was getting a tour of the facilities he griped, "What is all that racket!"

Dr. Tamik peered at him curiously. "There is a play area down the hall from this lab. On Bellarin we encourage parents to keep their children nearby during the work day. Do you not have families living in your City, Doctor?

"No, thank goodness."

As Dr. Tamik began to frown, Rodney backpedalled furiously. "Uh, no children on Atlantis – yet – but of course _I love_ kids; it's just a little hard to concentrate on my work." And on her; she was very pretty. Sheppard was wrong: 'science' and 'fun' _could_ be in the same sentence. If it killed him, McKay was going to have a good time, maybe a la 'Sheppard-style,' just for once.

"Uh, what exactly are you working on, Dr. Tamik?" Rodney asked, hoping to move quickly from business to 'what's your first name?'.

"Oh, it is quite exciting, Dr. McKay – or may I call you Rodney?"

Bingo. "Of course you can, uh-"

"Lina. Well, we are exploring the possibility of extracting the power of a black hole, whose radiation would normally evaporate into space. In effect we would be creating a 'ball of fuel' which could be tapped into, thus providing us with a virtually limitless source of energy."*

_(*Paraphrased from an article on black holes, at bbc dot com/future, by Philip Ball, December 3, 2013.)_

Wow. Pegasus scientists were usually a waste of his time. This one could actually be interesting to talk with.

"That sounds fascinating, Lina. Now, if you wouldn't mind letting me take a look at your data, I'd love to show you how advanced _our _research is in this field. Coincidentally, I think I've got some files on it in this thing," McKay said as he pulled his laptop out of its case. He should have pulled his foot out of his mouth, too. Ah, well, baby steps. At least he was trying.

_Later that evening, at bedtime…_

Rodney McKay, pleasantly buzzed and with a full stomach after the welcoming banquet, was getting ready for bed when he realized something – no laptop. Shoot. He must have left it in Dr. Tamik's, uh, _Lina's_, lab. A few of her colleagues had come by, and they'd all had a rather animated discussion. (Again, what kind of place was this? All of those scientists had been worth his attention.) Then they'd invited him to dinner. In all the hubbub, he didn't realize he'd left his computer behind. No worries, though; it was so heavily encrypted that even Zelenka would have trouble cracking it.

_In the wee hours of the next morning…_

Despite good food and even better company, Sheppard was still awake.

"John, is everything OK?" Elizabeth looked at John sleepily. He was staring out the window.

"Oh, I thought I saw something, like a flash of light. Maybe it's a thunderstorm. Mika said it might rain."

"Mika?"

"Uh, that's Director Glenara's first name."

"Really."

"Hey, just making an effort, bein' friendly, enjoying all that relaxing hospitality."

"Hm hmmm," said Elizabeth, arching an eyebrow.

John crept back to bed before he got into any more trouble. "Man, it's chilly."

"Well, it's springtime here. You should have packed better," said Elizabeth with mock sternness.

John spooned with her, relishing the warmth and softness. He began to nuzzle her neck and slide his hand along the contours of her waist and hip which were, frustratingly, currently draped in cozy pajama pants.

Elizabeth gave a little sigh and pressed herself back against his crotch, pleased to feel his 'interest' growing. But she sensed something was wrong; his muscles were tense. "John, are you sure everything's OK?"

"Yeah, yeah," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "I guess I'm just not good at relaxing. It's been a long time since I had more than a day off."

"Uh huh, it's been nice to…."

"There! There it is again!" John extricated himself from bed and went to the window.

Elizabeth joined him. After a few seconds she saw it, too – a flash of bluish-white light, some distance away, but brilliant and strong.

Moments later came another flash, and then another and another.

"Uh, that's not lightening," said John. "Hey, do you smell that?" The windows in their room were partly open. An acrid, burnt smell wafted in.

"I'm going to check this out," said John. He quickly put on some jeans, grabbed his Tac vest from the closet (he hadn't been comfortable about leaving it back on Atlantis), and pulled it over the T-shirt he'd been sleeping in. He also grabbed the guns he'd never let out of his sight since they'd arrived.

"John, what can I do?"

"Get dressed."

As Elizabeth hurried to find a shirt and sweater, John turned on his walkie-talkie.

"Captain Giovanni, this is Colonel Sheppard, come in," he said, contacting the head of the Atlantis security contingent stationed at the Gate.

No answer.

"Captain Giovanni, this is Sheppard, do you read?"

The radio suddenly came alive in a burst of static and broken words. "C..nel, ..nel...under attack…"

John heard the staccato of gun fire.

"Giovanni, what's happening?"

"Unfriendlies…Gate…Civilians down, civ-!"

"Captain! Contact Atlantis for reinforcements! Giovanni, do you read me?"

"Yes, Sir," came the young Captain's voice, now in a hush. "Lt. Chambliss…May Day transmit…she's confirmed…help-"

A grunt. A scream. Then the radio went dead.

"Giovanni! Goddamn it!"

"Elizabeth, take this." John shoved a pistol hard into her hands, stuck another one inside his vest then grabbed his P-90. "McKay's supposed to be two doors down. Ronon and Teyla each have rooms on the first floor. So do Lieutenant Parker and four Marines."

"There's also a few lab staff, and some medical personnel that I approved for leave, but I'm not sure where they are," Elizabeth added.

"They're in the small building across the garden, second floor," said John. "Always know where your people are, Elizabeth, _**always.**_"

"Go get McKay, Ronon and Teyla, and protect those civilians. I'll get Parker and the Marines and find out what the hell's going on."

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooo

John made sure Elizabeth was heading safely down the hall then ran downstairs, two steps at a time. Parker wasn't answering his radio; maybe he'd buried it in the closet like Sheppard (stupidly) had. Why the fuck was he staying on the second floor? Half of his training seemed to have leaked from his brain as soon as their little 'vacation' had started. A luxury suite on the top floor of an Earth hotel was great, but you could never really trust your surroundings in the Pegasus galaxy.

"Parker!" Sheppard said in a stage whisper as he rounded a corner and saw the young man and the Marines clustered at an exit. They'd snuffed out any lighting that might give them away, and were now peering into that deep blue-purple sky that precedes sunrise, trying to see what they were up against.

"Over there, at about 2 o'clock. Havin' a hard time determining their exact position, Sir; definitely on the edge of the tree line. There may be some along those outbuildings, too," said the Lieutenant.

A burst of gunfire came out of the dark, sending the Lanteans diving for cover and showering them with pieces of shattered concrete. The shouts of panicked guests could be heard over the noise.

"Crap! They're smart. It'll be light soon; they're approaching from the north so they're well camouflaged by shadow," said John.

"I can't raise anyone at the Gate, Sir," said Parker.

"Yeah…I think they've been overrun. I got through to Giovanni for only a few seconds before his radio cut out. But they sent an SOS."

"So who are they – Genii?"

"Not their style."

Suddenly an explosion rocked the courtyard just outside their building. Fire ignited shrubbery and trees and wooden fences, the flames shooting high and casting a wide circle of light.

"Shit! – oh, sorry, Sir – they've made our position!"

"And made a big mistake!" said Sheppard. "Far side of the explosion, the light's exposed them. Ronon!" said John in surprise as the big guy ran up. "Where's Teyla?"

"With Dr. Weir. Everybody got out OK, and we've got maybe 30 people holed up in that grey building."

"C'mon, let's see if we can outflank whoever the hell's shooting at us. We may be able to pick a few off before they realize we're there." Sheppard, Ronon, Parker, and the four Marines crept out under cover of the meager darkness left untouched by firelight. John looked over at the Satedan and his ever-present gun; hmm, he hadn't felt comfortable leaving it at home, either. Sheppard gave the signal to split up, the Marines to the left, and John's team going right.

And hoping that no one was sneaking up on them from the south. The attack seemed to be coming from the north; the Gate was in that direction, where the intruders had gotten through. But Sheppard had no more forces to deploy, unless-

"Sgt. Lauter," he ordered one of the Marines, "get to Teyla and make sure that group of civilians is safe. And, make damn sure no one's coming at us from the south."

ooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooooooo

_A short time earlier…_

Rodney was already awake, but only half-dressed, by the time Elizabeth pounded on his door.

"What the hell's going on? Can't a person get some sleep? This is supposed to be a resort, for crying out loud. God, between those kids and-"

"Rodney, shut up, get a shirt on, and come with us," ordered Elizabeth. "Something's going on outside. As crazy as it sounds, I think we're under attack!"

It had taken Rodney a moment or two to register that behind Elizabeth in the hall was a _big_ group of really scared-looking people.

"Uhhh."

"Now, Rodney, now!"

Teyla and Ronon took the lead and hurried the group downstairs. They had to get to the people who were in the lodging house next door. Hopefully, Sheppard would send help. But to get to that building, they had to venture outside and cross a small park.

Bullets pinged off of walls and trees as they ran. McKay was lagging behind, with half-tied shoes and shivering in a thin T-shirt. As he struggled to catch up he heard someone calling his name.

"Rodney! Rodney, please help me!"

Dr. Tamik!

McKay broke away from the others and ran to where she was hiding behind some thick trees.

"What are you…you know, we have to get outta here," he stammered. He had let himself get too far away from the rest of his group. "You shouldn't be out here!"

"I'm hurt, Rodney. I can hardly walk."

"Oh, jeez, uh, hold on, I don't think-" Rescuing women in distress was Sheppard's job; McKay's aching back wasn't—wait a minute! His goal on this vacation was to have a good time, 'Sheppard style,' so…

"Yeah, Lina, c'mon, I got you, don't-"

McKay crumpled to the ground as Dr. Tamik stunned him. "My friends and I enjoyed your visit very much," she whispered into his senseless ears. "We look forward to learning much, much more." Two men came out of the darkness and carried Rodney away.

oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Sheppard and his men hadn't gone more than 20 yards from the lodging house door when a second explosion hit much too close for comfort. Through the flames that followed, John saw something that knocked his entire strategy on its ass.

An ominous line of men was emerging from the woods that bordered the resort property, 15 -20 abreast. They wore dark, thickly padded clothes and seemed weighed down by formidable weapons.

From the corner of his eye, Sheppard saw movement near the Marines' position. Crap. An ambush? He whispered frantically into his radio and prayed that he'd warned them in time. He, Parker and Ronon began creeping towards the attackers from behind the protection of a low garden wall. Sheppard knew their options were really limited. All they had were guns, knives, and Tasers. Their best offense would be surprise, speed, and the sheer number of bullets a P-90 could spit out. They'd have to hit them low and fast, and hope they took out as many as possible before being forced into combat at close range.

The sounds of ricocheting bullets, and the cries of civilians, were growing louder.

Back over at the trees, the enemy moved with grim purpose. Then they stopped. One by one they unslung their heavy, long-barreled weapons from their shoulders, braced them against their sides, and opened fire.

The air sizzled as it was dissected by deadly pulses of crackling, blue-white light.

Sheppard barked orders into the walkie-talkie. He, Lt. Parker and Ronon took off running fast and parallel to the garden wall. They broke cover at intervals to fire round after round then dropped back to safety behind the thick flagstones. Only a few of the mysterious attackers fell; what the hell were they wearing? The Lanteans' efforts were also hindered by the web of lethal energy which preceded the enemy, charring and burning anything it touched and keeping anyone from getting too close – unless they wanted to die. If Sheppard's people were going to stop them, they _had_ to break the cohesion of that line.

Crouching down as a particularly fierce barrage came at them, Sheppard hissed out his plan. "That wall – it runs almost to the edge of the woods. Let's go!"

The bullets and energy beams were chipping away at the garden barrier. Soon they'd have little or no cover. At the end of the wall Sheppard noted that, as brilliant as the beams were, their light was too weak and distant to completely erase the shadows which still protected him and the others.

The tide finally turned in their favor. Three of the attackers, whether by accident or overconfidence, had broken away from the main force. With a grin, Sheppard gave the signal to fire.

Their aim was perfect. The enemy soldiers fell, their necks and faces shot to pieces.

Now what to do about the rest of them? Sheppard and his team had no choice now but to step out in the open.

They moved towards the remaining enemy which, finally, seemed to be breaking apart. It looked like the Marines had managed some outflanking of their own and had killed a few men near the forest. Sheppard, Ronon and Parker were now exposed, very exposed, in the mostly wide-open field. They plastered themselves against the only remaining cover – a small outbuilding that bordered it – and planned their next attack. They were running low on ammo. They'd grabbed some of the beam weapons from the dead men, though, so the odds were improving.

And how.

Shouting and gunfire resounded from north of their position – where the Gate was. Giovanni and Chambliss – if they were still alive – _had_ managed to call in the cavalry. Enemy combatants now faced opposition from behind them and to both sides.

But as Sheppard surveyed the scene an explosion went off behind him.

_South _of their position.

In the grey building.

Where the other Atlantis visitors were staying. Where he'd sent Elizabeth and Teyla and McKay.

John turned to Ronon and Lt. Parker, yelling over the fighting, "Our people are over there! C'mon!" Then he radioed the Marines where they were headed.

He ran, trusting that Ronon and Parker were following. He was almost there when a beam grazed his leg. It burned through his boot and into his skin. He fell, but muscle memory and adrenaline threw him into a roll, back on his feet, back to the rescue.

The building was on fire. Sheppard could see a crush of panicked people swarming the exit. He reached them in seconds and began pulling them out. At the back of the mob was Teyla, urging them forward.

"Teyla, where's Elizabeth and McKay!?" Damn it. 'Always know where your people are, John,' taunted his memory.

"Elizabeth is here, John, but Rodney, I think-!" Her voice and petite frame were being swallowed up by the crowd.

Oh, thank god!_ There _was Elizabeth, beyond Teyla and still on the stairs, making sure no one was left behind. They exchanged brief relieved – and frightened – smiles. When she finally reached the doorway they grabbed each other's hand, held on tight, and fled.

They were met by blinding streaks of light. Sheppard reeled from their searing heat. Elizabeth's grasp suddenly crushed his fingers and then just as quickly withdrew. He stopped and spun around.

Light seemed to strobe after that, like he was trapped in some kind of surreal disco nightclub. Flash, and he saw bodies on the ground behind him. A painful brightness, and then he was kneeling beside them. Voila – a spotlight found the singed, girly-pink plaid of comfy pajama pants. Zap, and a laser light sliced through his eyes and into his brain, carving an image of his hands moving among the dead and dying; fingers searching, praying for a pulse; coming away with something sticky and crisped, soft and wet, unimaginable and incomprehensible.

He stood up, pushing whatever he had taken into his pocket, vaguely thinking there was a reason for keeping it.

Sheppard turned around, wondering what he should do next. He thought it might be a good idea to get out of there. He started walking, then trotting, then running. He didn't notice at first the man he tripped over amid all the smoke, even though by now the sun was starting to come up, and it should have been obvious to anyone with eyes that there were bodies in the way, everywhere.

He knelt down to help. "Hey, hey, hold on, I've got you." The man's arm detached from the rest of his dead body as John gently rolled him over.

John stood up and began walking, away from the rising sun, seeking out shadow.

_He sank down on his knees. He didn't feel the cold mud soaking through the fabric. All he felt was what shouldn't have been there, threading its way through his chest from a black, black place._

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_**After…**_

Major Lorne terminated the connection to Caldwell and ended the video conference. He looked at Dr. Weir's desk. He hated to be there, sitting in her chair, moving her personal things to make room for the stacks of reports that had accumulated in the days since the attack.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Lt. Parker stepped into the room.

"Director Glenara is here to see you, as you requested, Sir."

Lorne sighed. "Thank you, Lieutenant. You can send her in. Uh, Parker?" said Lorne before the young man could leave, "have a seat please."

"How are you doing?"

Parker looked nervous. "I'm, uh, I'm managing, Sir. But, I know I said this before, but I feel as if I could have-"

Lorne cut him off. "You performed in an exemplary manner during the attack, Lieutenant. In fact, I'm putting your name in for a special commendation."

"But about Colonel Sheppard, Sir…I should have gotten to that building where Dr. Weir, where all those people…I should have been there sooner."

"Lt. Parker, don't do that to yourself. This entire…disaster…will be scrutinized by SGC down to the last detail. But I do not consider you at fault in any way."

"The Colonel and Dr. McKay…"

"We'll get them through this."

oooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooo

As Lt. Parker left the office, Director Glenara came in.

"Ms. Glenara," Lorne began, not feeling particularly disposed to use her official title, "I have to inform you that several of my superiors will be arriving in the next few days to debrief you and, frankly, try to figure out why in god's name you and your government deceived us and put our people at risk. By keeping your research program so fanatically secret, you just put a big, red bull's eye on it instead. Who were those men? Where did they come from? What were they after in your labs? We're not getting a whole lot of information from their dead bodies. If you know something, _anything_ about them, your people better be forthcoming about it."

"Ma'am, in your arrogance you were blind to spies, like Dr. Tamik and her co-conspirators, infiltrating your facilities. Lucky for you that my people rescued Dr. McKay before he could be taken off-world and put through God knows what. And as to what happened to Dr. Weir-" Lorne had to pause for a moment, "as to what happened to her and Colonel Sheppard and all the other casualties…"

"Major Lorne, I-"

"I'm not finished, Ma'am. If it was up to me, I'd charge your entire damn government with murder, attempted murder and probably a dozen other crimes."

"Major, can I just say-?"

"I'll be in touch, Ms. Glenara. You're welcome to leave now."

ooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooooooooooo

McKay's bed was next to Sheppard's in the infirmary. Rodney had only suffered minor injuries, but he couldn't just leave John all alone. Not the way he was.

"Hi, Elizabeth. You're back, huh?" said Rodney quietly. Her 'presence' had rarely left his side or John's since they'd come home.

"I'll never _really_ be gone, Rodney, you know that."

"He's not getting any better," he said, looking over at John who was peacefully asleep.

"Oh, he is, Rodney, he is. He's just not showing it on the outside. Right now he's in a place where he feels protected, where the pain is far away. When he's ready, he'll come back to us, stronger than before and with a new take on life. It's a smart soldier who knows when to retreat, and when it's time to move forward again."

**The End.**

_Please read and review. Please note that this story is a 'stand-alone' and is __**not**__ related to my much happier one, "The Prize," that I posted several weeks ago. This one is just something – sorry so dark – that I thought would be a good story._


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